For all the right reasons
by DannyD
Summary: Blair saves a dog


Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters   
belong to Paramount and Pet Fly. No money   
has exchange hands, yadda...  
  
Warnings: For animal lovers I should issue a   
small "violence against animals" warning; for   
Blair lovers there's also a "voilence against   
Blair" warning g; h/c; smarm and the use   
of the f-word.   
  
Notes: I'm paying a debt ;-) thus this one is   
for Leila, the Wicked Witch of all Seasons.   
Enjoy!  
  
  
For all the right reasons  
By DannyD  
  
  
//Jim would have a fit.// With a shaking   
hand, Blair searched the pockets of his   
pants for his keys. //Big time,// The   
anthropologist added in his mind, struggling   
to steady his hand to insert the key into the   
lock. Missing twice, the young man rested   
his forehead against the wooden frame and   
attempted to take a few deep, calming   
breaths. He moaned as his side protested   
the movement. The door handle danced in   
front of his eyes, jumping from one place to   
the other, always out of reach. Blinking   
rapidly, Blair shook his head to fight the   
threatening darkness.  
  
"Come on," he muttered and winced at the   
pain talking inflicted on his split and swollen   
lip. "Just open the door, Sandburg."   
Squinting with the combined force of the   
pain flashing through his head, and the fact   
that he lost his glasses, Blair poked at the   
little lock as it stubbornly refused to sit   
still. Then a wave of dizziness hit him full   
force, sweeping him off his feet. Blair   
gasped as he slid down to the floor. Around   
him, the world dimmed.   
  
//Jim's gonna kill me// Blair thought before   
he lost consciousness, hugging the little   
bundle in his arms to his chest.   
  
*'*'*'*  
  
//Sandburg, I'm gonna kill you. Slowly.//   
Jim Ellison cursed silently for the upteenth   
time stomping on the brakes a bit too hard,   
a bit too sudden. Behind him a car honked,   
blaring painfully through the early night.   
  
"Hey, are you blind?!" Jim shouted angrily,   
despite the fact that he knew the dumbass   
in the other car couldn't hear him. Suddenly   
the Sentinel remembered Sandburg's   
lecture about road rage which now added to   
Ellison's bad mood. "Idiot!" Jim spat, not   
quite knowing if he'd just addressed the   
driver or his partner and friend. Luckily his   
usual parking spot wasn't occupied tonight,   
meaning an innocent, ignorant human-being   
would live. Jim killed the engine, exiting his   
'69 Ford truck. Slamming the door felt too   
good to him right now.  
  
Sandburg hadn't shown up at the station as   
promised. No explanation, no excuse, no   
"hey, Jim, I'm sorry, man, but I won't make   
it today". Nothing. Maybe it was his revenge   
for the teasing he'd received this morning.   
Another 'table leg' comment and mocked   
sympathy for a date gone wrong. Jim had   
been joking with good-natured and well-  
meant laughter at his friend's misery. And   
Blair had teased back, threatening to leave   
him, Jim, drowning under a *cascade* of   
paperwork. The Sentinel couldn't believe   
that the kid had actually buggered off. Upon   
his phone call to Blair's office at the   
university, Jim had been told that he'd left   
hours ago with a fellow TA, Susan Jones. Of   
course.  
  
"You're dead, Sandburg," Jim growled,   
pushing the opening elevator doors aside in   
his fury.  
  
The door to the loft swung open. Stepping   
inside, Jim took pleasure in slamming the   
door shut. Again it felt great. The detective   
knew his friend must've noticed his   
'appearance' but for the simple reason of   
good measure, he took a deep breath to yell   
his name.  
  
The sound died on his lips.  
  
At first it was only the pungent odor that   
assaulted his sensitive nose. However,   
seconds later, the visual proof came into   
focus.  
  
"What the hell ... ?" Jim shouted, his gaze   
darting from the brownish mess on the   
wooden floor to the dark bundle of fur   
attempting to crawl under the couch.   
Seeking a refuge from the furious, tall man   
with the loud voice.  
  
"Sandburg!" the Sentinel yelled the name,   
the unspoken question demanding an   
immediate explanation. Jim took a step   
forward. Watching his approach with huge   
brown eyes, the little dog tried to press   
itself into the couch, the small body   
quivering with fear.  
  
Blair's low voice reached his ears. "Her   
name's Betty."  
  
"Care to explain to me what this is all   
about?" Jim questioned angrily, still   
watching the dog. The animal cowered near   
the couch, trembling with fear.  
  
"She's afraid, Jim," Blair said slowly. "I   
don't blame her." A sigh. "Can I explain it   
later? I'm not feelin'..."  
  
"No! I want an explanation *now*,   
Sandburg," Jim interrupted, finally turning   
around. The rage vanished at the sight of   
the bruised and swollen face of his friend.   
"Oh, my God..." In a few quick strides Jim   
was at Blair's side, reaching out to gently   
touch his left cheek. Forgotten was his   
anger, the bad mood, or the little dog   
making a mess on the floor. "Chief, what   
happened?" The skin felt hot under his   
gentle touch.  
  
The young man flinched, but ignored Jim's   
question. "I'm okay." As if to punish him for   
the lie, Blair swayed and instinctively   
grasped Jim's arm. "I'm okay," he stressed   
again.  
  
"Yeah, I hear that," Jim replied, placing an   
arm around Blair's shoulders. "Take it easy."  
  
Under the watchful eyes of Betty, the two   
men moved to the couch. "Come on, Chief, sit   
down before you..."  
  
Suddenly, Blair's legs gave out and he   
sagged against Jim's tall frame.  
  
"Hey, hey, don't do this to me, Sandburg!"   
the Sentinel exclaimed, catching the   
crumpling figure.  
  
"I'm 'kay," Blair mumbled. Then his eyes   
rolled back into his head and the body went   
limp.  
  
***  
  
All he wanted to do was curl up in a little   
ball and wait for the pain to subside. //Let   
me sleep.// Blair pleaded in his mind. //I   
just wanna sleep.// Then, the large hand was   
back, the hand that had hit him in the   
stomach so badly a few hours ago. The   
anthropologist gasped at the memory, trying   
to twist away from the brutal hand that now   
roamed under his shirt. The pain came   
immediately as the tender flesh was gently   
probed.   
  
"Try to relax, Blair..."   
  
"No..." Blair turned his head and started to   
move away from the torturous touch.   
  
"It's okay, Chief, you're gonna be okay." The   
words reached his ears, but didn't make   
much sense to him. All he wanted to do was   
escape from the hands. Escape from the   
pain.   
  
***  
  
Something woke Blair. A sound, a voice,   
nagging at the verge of his consciousness.   
Persistently, persuasively, it crept into his   
head, leaving whirling question marks behind.   
The sound flooded his mind and after a while   
the noise became words.   
  
A familiar voice. The voice he'd heard before.   
  
Jim's.  
  
"Hey, puppy, come here .... don't be afraid,"   
Jim crooned in the softest voice Blair had   
ever heard him use. "I'm not gonna hurt   
you."   
  
Despite his misery, the young anthropologist   
smiled. Give him a moment with a dog and   
hard-boiled cop James Ellison became as   
mushy as a puppy himself. //Gotcha, Jim.//   
Blair opened his eyes, but squeezed them   
shut immediately as the light pierced   
through his head.  
  
"Can you switch off the sun, man?" Blair   
moaned while he covered his eyes with one   
hand.   
  
The detective looked up from his crouch on   
the floor where he'd tried to coax the little   
dog out of its hiding place. "How are you   
feeling, Chief?" He sat back on his heels,   
hands resting on his knees.   
  
Blair squinted at his older friend through   
the curtain of his fingers. "Isn't it obvious?"   
he replied, his mood decreasing reawakening   
aches and pains. At the same instant he   
knew the Sentinel was just being concerned   
about him. "Sorry, Jim. It's not my   
favourite day today."   
  
A disarming smile crossed Ellison's face. "I   
can relate to that, Chief. I had to do all the   
paperwork."   
  
The young man chuckled, then winced. "Oh,   
what a burden....ouch...owwww, I'd better   
not make any sudden moves, huh?"   
  
Jim felt a presence at his side, and out of   
the corner of his eyes saw Betty cautiously   
approaching his legs. The detective didn't   
move, but concentrated on his injured   
friend. The dog would come if she felt   
comfortable. "You could try and sell those   
bruises on your upper body as paintings at   
the new art museum downtown," he joked   
good-naturedly. Then his features grew   
serious. "What happened, Blair?"   
  
Ignoring the question, Blair turned his head   
a bit. "Am I smelling chamomile tea?" he   
asked, his face adding a plea for help with   
the steaming cup he'd just discovered on   
the living-room table.   
  
"Are you telling me you've developed   
Sentinel senses?" As Jim moved to retrieve   
the cup, Betty flinched in fear and escaped   
into the kitchen, probably seeking cover in a   
remote corner. Jim took the cup and   
offered it to Blair's waiting hands. "Be   
careful on your lip, Chief," he warned gently,   
wincing in sympathy as his friend tensed up   
in pain when the heat touched his sore lips.   
  
"I hate getting beaten up," Blair muttered   
and took another, more careful sip. He   
leaned his head back against the pillows and   
closed his eyes briefly. The soothing liquid   
ran down his throat, warming his stomach.   
"This feels good."   
  
"We should get you checked out at the   
emergency room," Jim suggested.  
  
Abruptly, Sandburg's eyes flew open. "No   
way, man. I'm fine."   
  
"Chief... you passed out on me a few minutes   
ago."  
  
"I trust your verdict," Blair replied. "You've   
already made sure I'm not in any immediate   
danger of dying on our couch, right?" He   
took another sip of the tea.   
  
"You might have a slight concussion," the   
former medic tried to reason.   
  
The headache proved the Sentinel's words   
but Blair stubbornly, carefully shook his   
head. "So the doc will tell us I have a   
concussion and that I should take it easy for   
a few days and send me home. You just did   
the same." He emptied his cup of tea and   
handed it back to Jim. "Thanks."   
  
"The moment you feel nauseous, we're on   
our way, you got it?" Jim placed the cup on   
the table.   
  
"Where's Betty?" Blair asked suddenly,   
struggling to sit up.   
  
Jim put a restraining hand on the young   
man's shoulder. "It's okay, Chief. She's   
alright. Hiding somewhere."   
  
The anthropologist fell back against the   
pillows, closing his eyes momentarily as his   
stomach muscles cramped. "I'm sorry about   
the mess she made, Jim. She was just   
scared when you showed up." In an almost   
inaudible whisper he added, "I was scared,   
too. Thought he'd followed me."  
  
"He?" Jim probed gently.   
  
Blair sighed. "Betty's owner, I guess."   
  
"Why don't you tell me the whole story from   
the beginning?" Jim stretched his legs and   
sat down on the carpet, resting his elbow on   
the couch.   
  
"After classes, Susan Jones and I went for   
lunch. She had an appointment downtown and   
as you know I wanted to meet you at the   
station. I'd left my car at the U and when   
we split up, I took the detour through the   
park to get back. I was in hurry because I'd   
promised to come to work and help you out."   
Blair rushed out the words.  
  
"Take it easy, Chief. I'm not mad at   
you...anymore," Jim grinned warmly.  
  
The police observe nodded and inhaled   
deeply, wincing a little. "Anyway, there was   
this pedestrian with his dog. He was a *huge   
guy*, massive, giant." Blair paused,   
remembering the man. "Somehow he and the   
little dog didn't seem to fit in the picture.   
He was so tall and she's so tiny, almost   
fragile. I didn't pay much attention but   
walked by 'cause I had to make up for the   
time I had lost chatting with Susan."   
Shifting a little into a more comfortable   
position, Blair grimaced, then bit his already   
split lip.   
  
Noticing his friend's discomfort, Ellison   
moved quickly to kneel in front of the couch.   
"Why don't you try and bend your legs a   
bit," he suggested softly, carefully touching   
Blair's legs to assist. "That'll take off the   
strain on your stomach muscles there."   
  
"Thanks," Blair murmured, his body quivering   
from the small effort to draw up his legs.   
He gratefully accepted the afghan Jim   
offered, snuggling into the soft blanket as   
best as he could.   
  
"You okay?" Jim asked, concern still swinging   
in his voice. "Maybe we should re-consider   
and..."   
  
Impressive blue looked up at the Blessed   
Protector, pain and fear reflecting the   
emotions that ravaged Blair's body. "I'm   
fine, Jim. Just sore. You know how it feels,   
man. Right?" The young Shaman patted the   
space beside him on the couch. "Could you   
sit down there like you did before?" For a   
moment, his eyes took on a child-like plea;   
like a kid afraid of the dark. Moments later   
he added, "It's okay if you wanna sit   
somewhere more comfortable. The floor   
must be pretty hard." //Just don't leave me   
alone, Jim.//  
  
The detective plopped down on the carpet   
again, resuming the same position he'd been   
in before with his elbow resting on the   
couch. "Do you feel up to telling me the rest   
of the story, Chief?" Jim flashed him   
another reassuring smile and patted Blair's   
thigh affectionately.   
  
Instead of continuing with his story, Blair   
started all over again, apparently oblivious   
to the fact he'd already told the beginning.   
Jim frowned at that, wondering about the   
concussion his partner must be suffering.   
Still, Blair seemed coherent and didn't   
falter in his tale. So Jim sat on the floor   
and listened.   
  
"So I'd walked by the guy when I suddenly   
heard him shouting at the dog. His voice was   
really angry. Something like "you stupid   
creature", then I heard Betty howling in   
pain. I turned around and saw him raising   
the longer end of her leash and striking her.   
Over and over again." Blair swallowed,   
turning his gaze to the ceiling. "I know I   
shouted at him to leave her alone. The jerk   
didn't pay any attention at all but kept   
hitting her. She tried to get away from him   
but since she was still on the leash, she   
couldn't move very far. And when she   
moved, he tore at the leash to pull her back   
to his feet. Then his hand lashed out and he   
started hitting her small body with his bare   
hand."   
  
Jim knew that his younger friend loathed   
any kind of violence. Watching him struggle   
with his emotions, the detective wasn't at   
all surprised to see pearls of moisture   
glisten in the corner of those gentle blue   
eyes. Mutely, Jim reached out and rubbed   
Blair's leg in a silent support. Then he   
waited.   
  
"There weren't many people in the park but   
those who were just kept staring at the   
scenario," Blair continued in a thick voice.   
"Nobody seemed to care." He chuckled   
sadly. "Or maybe they knew the odds against   
him. I was too blind to see that it was a no-  
winner."   
  
//No, Chief, you knew exactly what you   
were doing. You did what your heart told you   
to do.// Jim mused.  
  
"By the time I reached the guy, Betty was   
whimpering, but she never ever tried to bite   
him. Her whole body trembled and she was   
peeing constantly. It was terrible, man. She   
kept trying to get away from him, but he   
had her so short on the leash already that   
there was no escape from his blows." Blair   
reached up and rubbed his nose. "I kinda   
crashed into him, yelling to get his fucking   
hands off her."   
  
"I bet you surprised him, huh?" Jim spoke up   
softly.   
  
Blair actually grinned at that. "You should've   
seen his face, man!" Then he grew serious   
again. "Pulling Betty even closer, he yelled at   
me to mind my own business and that it was   
his dog and he could do with it whatever he   
wanted." A moment of silence hung in the air   
as the teacher remembered. "He called her   
'it'. A thing, a property, like a toy. I was   
actually very polite when I asked him to let   
her go. He leered at me, then laughed out   
loud. He started to walk by, pulling Betty   
with him. I followed him and tried to talk to   
him." Blair shrugged. "I guess it wasn't one   
of my better lectures. Suddenly he ... just   
hit me in the face. Sprawling backwards, I   
lost my balance and crashed down onto the   
asphalt. He'd somehow lost his hold on Betty   
and she came straight forward to me,   
almost sensing I was one of the good guys or   
something. She barked at him. When I tried   
to get up, I saw his foot coming towards her   
and I sort of grabbed her. He got me in the   
stomach instead."   
  
Jim's jaws hurt. Clenching them painfully   
and grinding down on his molars, the   
Sentinel listened to Blair's story. His anger   
rose with each passing minute. "How did you   
manage to get away?"   
  
Another chuckle, a bit more cheerful this   
time, escaped Blair's lips. "I stopped moving.   
Betty was under me and when he kicked me   
several more times I didn't move. You know   
like prey in the wilderness trying to fool   
their pursuers? So he let go and just...left.   
He didn't try to get Betty back but I   
thought he'd lurk somewhere and wait for   
me." A fine tremor shook Blair's body. He   
pulled the afghan closer to his shoulders as   
if the blanket could protect him from the   
enemy.   
  
"You're safe now. Nobody's gonna hurt you   
or Betty," Jim vowed. He reached up and   
squeezed Blair's arm through the blanket.   
"Trust me, Chief."   
  
Blair met his gaze. "Do you know what was   
really scary?"   
  
"What's that?" Jim saw Betty approaching   
the coach with fearful eyes. Her paws made   
little noise on the floor. When she noticed   
Jim's look, she stopped, waited and then   
moved forward again.   
  
"I thought I'd die."  
  
"Blair, it's okay to be scared. That's nothing   
to be ashamed of."  
  
"...I mean I've been through more trouble   
than this before, right? All the crappy,   
creepy stuff with Lash or, or... Alex never   
left me with the thought I would die today   
with a dozens of people watching. There was   
this crowd but nobody did anything. Not   
even call the police. No one helped."  
  
Two little paws landed beside Blair on the   
couch and a moist nose tickled his hand.   
Betty looked at her human hero and started   
licking Blair's hand. "Hey, sweetie," Blair   
crooned, mindful to not scare the little dog   
with any sudden movements. Tentatively,   
Jim placed his hand near her muzzle and   
moments later Betty's tongue whirled over   
the back of his hand as well.   
  
"I'm sorry that you had to go through all   
this, Chief." Crawling behind the dog's ears   
with his other hand, Jim sighed. "I can't   
explain to you why nobody else helped. Not   
everyone is as compassionate as you."   
  
"You mean stupid," Blair corrected, smiling a   
bit sadly.   
  
Surprised, Jim stared at his partner. "What   
makes you think it was a stupid thing to do?"  
  
Blair raised his other arm and made a vague   
gesture in the air before he combed through   
his long hair. "I didn't start thinking about   
any consequences until I was on the ground.   
Just... I couldn't let him beat her. She's so   
small and didn't do anything to deserve such   
a punishment." With a frustrated sigh, Blair   
shook his head. "I mean the newspapers are   
full of horrible crimes every day, and what   
we see at the station sometimes makes you   
question the term 'human being'. In the   
park today, I thought... oh man, you're gonna   
laugh at me," he stopped abruptly.   
  
"....you thought what?" Jim encouraged   
calmly giving his friend time to sort through   
his mind.   
  
"...if we don't stop these so-called little   
things like the beating of a dog, how can we   
solve the big issues in our world?" Blair   
finished, a small blush colouring his face.   
"It's lame, I know."   
  
Forming a little step with his hand, Jim   
allowed Betty to jump on the sofa to snuggle   
up against the warmth of Blair's body. "You   
know what, Chief? As long as you have a   
reason like that and you fight for your   
belief, it's gonna be anything but 'lame'."  
  
"You can't change the world by saving a   
little dog."   
  
Stroking Betty's brown fur with the back of   
his fingers, Jim nodded. "Nope, but it's a   
start in the right direction."   
  
***  
  
It was almost 11 p.m. The loft was bathed in   
the dim light from the TV and a few candles   
burning on the table. Blair still rested on the   
couch, watching TV with the bundle of Betty   
curled against his side. The dog was softly   
snoring. Occasionally she sighed in her sleep,   
enjoying the delicate strokes over her fur.   
  
Jim emerged from the bathroom, holding a   
hot-water bottle in his hands.   
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked as he made   
his way into the living room.   
  
Blair yawned heartily but groaned at the   
pain it caused his bruised jaw. "I'm alright,   
just tired and sore." He grinned. "Can't wait   
to try and get up tomorrow morning."  
  
Jim sat down on the edge of the couch.   
"Chief..." he began but Blair interrupted,   
smiling. "Go ahead, Florence." He lifted the   
afghan exposing his stomach.   
  
"I just wanna make sure, you're alright," the   
Sentinel said and tenderly pushed up Blair's   
shirt. His hands were warm as they roamed   
over the skin, his sense of touch opened   
widely to check for any indication of a   
hidden injury he might have missed. Blair   
moaned a few times and drew his legs up   
again.   
  
"Sorry, Chief, I'll try to be as gentle as   
possible."   
  
"...it's okay." Blair fought the urge to pry   
Jim's hands away.   
  
Satisfied that his friend would be sore but   
okay in the morning, Jim withdrew his hand.   
"Do you want to sleep here? I think your bed   
would be a better idea."  
  
Betty raised her head at the sound of his   
voice. Recognizing the Sentinel, she settled   
back into the warm cave under Blair's arm.   
  
"I don't wanna move, man," Blair confessed.   
"You mind me sleeping here?"   
  
"Of course not," Jim replied. "I brought you   
this." He indicated the hot-water bottle. "It   
might help your cramping muscles."   
  
Pulling the afghan back again, Blair took the   
bottle and placed it over his hurting   
stomach. At first he flinched at the   
pressure but as soon as the warmth crept   
through his clothes and body, he visibly   
relaxed. "Thanks, man. That feels pretty   
good."   
  
Jim stood up after gently petting the little   
dog's head. Betty pried an eye open and   
closed it again with a contented sigh.   
  
"Call me if you need anything, okay?" He   
pointed a finger at Blair. "I mean that,   
Chief."   
  
"Sure." Blair nodded. As Jim turned toward   
the stairs, he called after him. "You don't   
think we could keep her, huh?"  
  
The larger man looked over to his partner   
and friend. Seeing the hope and love for   
that animal shining in Sandburg's eyes, Jim   
winked at him. "I guess Betty would fit quite   
nicely into our world of jaguars and wolves,   
don't you agree?"  
  
  
The end  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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